


We Apologise For The Inconvenience

by ibelieveinturtles



Series: Donuts in My Bra and Other Stories [32]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Challenge fic, Darcy schemes revenge, Darcy’s iPod, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Relationship, Rollins secretly videos Darcy’s excavation of the crate and sends it to Rumlow, dlaf2019, frenemies to lovers probably, it becomes a long running prank war, packing peanuts, they eventually meet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/pseuds/ibelieveinturtles
Summary: Darcyland 3rd Annual Crack ChallengeApril 7 - Strange iPod locations - Ever since the Son of Coul took that damn thing, it’s been causing Darcy grief. Where’d she end up finding it?andApril 9 - Must include packing peanuts - Organic or styrofoam, you know it really doesn’t matter.





	We Apologise For The Inconvenience

**Author's Note:**

> What’s that saying - better late than never??? Unbeta’d, unedited, un-the usual.

 

* * *

 

 

All of Jane's equipment had been returned promptly after Thor left to deal with his brother. Agent Coulson had practically fallen over himself making sure she had everything she needed to continue her work on the Einstein-Rosen bridge.

As well as all the original equipment, Agent Coulson provided them with extra computers, access to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s satellites and a set of lackeys to provide security and help with the heavy lifting.

Eager to resume their work, Jane, Eric, and Darcy unpacked and reassembled all the gizmos and gadgets in record time.

Darcy barely had time to catch her breath afterwards before Jane was rushing her to the van for an evening of chasing rainbow bridges. They were so busy it was three days before Darcy realised she still hadn't seen her iPod.

“Hey, Jane,” she called across the room. “Have you seen my iPod?”

There was no reply.

“Jane?”

Darcy waited another 30 seconds before trying again.

“JANE!”

“What?” Jane asked with a startled glance, looking up from the figures she was studying.

“Have you seen my iPod?”

“Um- Have you looked in the drawer?”

“I've looked everywhere. Can't find it. That's why I'm asking you.”

Jane glanced around the room but with a slightly distracted glaze in her eyes, as if she was thinking of something else.

Which to be fair, Darcy knew was highly likely.

“No…” Jane said, looking back at her screen. “No…”

Darcy waited patiently for another minute or so before deciding that was probably the best response she was going to get.

Turning back to her desk, she picked up her phone and tapped in the number she'd stolen from Jane.

“Coulson,” a voice said in a brisk, no-nonsense tone.

“Hello, Agent Coulson. This is Darcy Lewis on behalf of Dr. Foster,” she said in her best Cheery Customer Service voice. “So we finally finished unpacking all the stuff you guys stole and returned and there's an item missing.”

“Everything was itemised and packed appropriately, Miss Lewis. I checked it myself.”

“Really? Then where's my iPod?”

“I'm sorry, your what?”

“My iPod,” Darcy repeated, slowly and clearly. “It was _not_ returned, otherwise I would _not_ be calling you right now.”

“One moment please, Miss Lewis.”

As she listened to the faint tapping of keys in the background, her gaze sliding across the figure of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent standing guard at the main entrance of the building. Highly conspicuous in their Men-In-Black suits, Darcy wondered if they were even allowed to wear anything less uptight.

Her attention snapped back to her phone as Agent Coulson spoke again.

“I have no record of an iPod among Dr. Fosters belongings. You must have misplaced it,” he said.

“Ah - it’s not Jane’s iPod, Agent Coulson, so why would it be listed under her things? It’s mine so it’d be listed under the things you and your goo- associates took from me,” Darcy explained.

“Miss Lewis, everything we borrowed was inventoried on one list. There is no iPod on that list and everything has been returned. Thank you.”

The line clicked and went dead.

Darcy lowered the phone from her ear and stared at it. That lying thief.

She was 9000% positive that her iPod had been on the receipt thingy Jane was handed when S.H.I.E.L.D. first absconded with all of their stuff.

She pushed back her chair with a loud scrape and wandered over to Jane's cluttered desk, settling into Jane's much more comfortable wheelie chair as she considered the mess carefully. She knew that list was here somewhere.

Darcy began to sort through the piles of paper, multi-tasking by sorting and filing as she went.

A feeling of triumphant satisfaction rose in her chest when she finally found the signed list under an empty coffee cup. Leaning back, Darcy scrutinised the list until… there! Right between ‘laptop, generic, 1’ and ‘electronic gadget, unidentified, 1’ was ‘Apple iPod, 1.’

“Yes!”

She scanned down the page for the signature. Maybe if she identified the agent that signed off on the theft she could ask them directly about her iPod. Her brow furrowed with concentration as she attempted to decipher the scribble on the bottom line. That was definitely a ‘B’ followed by what was probably an ‘r’ and maybe a ‘u’. Was that another ‘r’? Or maybe an ‘n’? The next one was definitely an ‘l’, she was sure of it. As for the last bit… well it could be anything. So, she was looking for an Agent Brurl-squiggle or maybe Brunl-squiggle.

The sound of voices near the front door caught her attention. Two of their guardian agents were loitering in the front door. What did they even do when they weren't shifting heavy things around for Jane?

And then she wondered if maybe they knew anything about who this Agent Brurloo was, and the whereabouts of her iPod.

Leaping out of the chair she walked purposefully towards them. Halfway there she realised she had no idea what their names were - in her head she called these ones Agent Scarface and Agent Vanilla Ice.

“Um, hey,” she said with a little wave. “I was wondering if you guys could help me out with something?”

Agent Vanilla Ice turned to face her, a look of polite disinterest on his face. “What’s the problem?”

“Um, well, I was wondering if you knew who signed this?” She held the piece of paper out for him to look at. Taking it carefully he studied the signature for a moment, then shook his head.

“Sorry, ma’am, I don’t recognise it.” Instead of handing it back to her he passed it to Agent Scarface. “Rollins, you recognise it?”

Agent Scarface glanced at the signature, then gave it a closer look. “Yeah, I know it.” He glowered at Darcy. “What do you want to know for?”

“Because my iPod hasn’t been returned and Agent Coulson just told me it was never on the list and yet here it is-” she stabbed her finger at the piece of paper, “- _right here_. Signed, sealed, delivered.”

“iPod, huh? I’ll ask for you.”

“Or you could just tell me who this is and I can ask for myself?” Darcy counter-offered.

Scarface Rollins almost smiled as he shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. Privacy. I’ll pass your query on for you, but that’s all I can do.”

Darcy pouted for a moment before relenting. “Okay, but tell him it’s urgent. My iPod is very important to me.”

“I’ll make sure I do that,” Rollins replied.

Darcy retreated back inside. On an impulse, she took the list over to their combined printer/fax/copier and made a scan and several photocopies of it. She didn’t trust anyone around here at the moment.

On another impulse - born partly from annoyance, partly from impatience, and partly from sheer bloody-mindedness - she emailed Agent Coulson a copy of the original inventory list, with the entry about her iPod highlighted for his attention. Then she called him again.

“Coulson,” the brisk, no-nonsense voice said.

“Hey, Agent iPod Thief. So I found our copy of that inventory and guess what’s on it?”

“Miss Lewis-”

“I emailed you a copy to make it easier for you,” Darcy interrupted.

“How did you get my email address?”

“It’s in our address book,” Darcy replied. She wasn’t about to tell him she’d got it from Jane’s computer.

“Okay, I’ll look into it for you. I’ll let you know if I find it.”

“You’ll find it,” Darcy said firmly. “Or you buy me a new one.”

And then she hung up.

She gave Agent Coulson exactly two days to chase down her iPod before she called him again.

“Coulson.”

“So have you found it yet?” she asked, not bothering with any pleasantries.

“Miss Lewis-”

“It’s very important to me, Agent C. That iPod was the last thing my Nanna ever gave me and I want it back. Or a replacement. But I’d prefer the one you stole. But a replacement will do - as long as it’s the very latest model to make up for the inconvenience you’ve put me through.”

“I assure you, Miss Lewis, finding your iPod is a priority.”

“Thank you,” she replied primly, and hung up.

* * *

 

Phil Coulson sighed the sigh of the put-upon and returned the phone handset to its cradle. Then he picked it up again and pushed the intercom button.

“Abernathy?”

“Yes, sir?” his secretary asked.

“Did you pass on that thing about Miss Lewis’ iPod?”

“Yes, sir. I forwarded the email and your instructions to Agent Rumlow two days ago.”

“Has he responded yet?”

“No, sir. He’s in Australia on a mission.”

“In that case, can you please pull up the number that just called me, and make sure all calls from that number automatically go straight to Rumlows extension.”

“I’ll do it right away, sir.”

“Thank you.” Phil returned the handset and allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Lets see how badly Rumlow wanted the promotion he was gunning for once he’d dealt with Darcy Lewis for a week or two.

* * *

 

The next time Darcy tried to call Agent Coulson it rang out. This happened several times so she sent him emails instead. Every morning and every afternoon. Until her emails suddenly started returning to her with an ‘out of office’ message.

She tried asking Agent Rollins if he’d heard anything but all he said was that it was being looked into.

She was almost ready to go in-person to wherever Agent iPod Thief was hiding when a call finally connected.

* * *

 

Brock Rumlow was back in his office for the first time in a week. After wrapping up the Puente Antiguo operation he’d been sent straight to Australia to sort out a possible 0-8-4. He’d had about three hours sleep in the last two days and Director Fury always demanded a preliminary report asap. Report sent, he was skimming his emails for anything requiring immediate attention when his phone rang.

“Operations.”

“Hey, Agent iPod Thief,” a woman said. “Guess what I still don’t have?”

He paused for a moment. Was someone pranking him? “What?” he said, incoherent from lack of sleep.

“Dude. I still don’t have my iPod back. I wants it, Precious.”

“I don’t know anything about any iPod,” he mumbled and hung up.

The phone rang again less than half a minute later.

“Okay, so now you’re just being an ass, Agent. Admit you stole my iPod, give me a replacement and I’ll call it even, okay?”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Maybe he’d fallen asleep and this was some sort of weird dream… He brought the phone back to his ear and decided to go with the Five W’s and see what happened.

“Who is this?”

“What? You’ve stolen someone else’s iPod now?” she asked, her tone of voice somewhere between sarcastic, annoyed, and amused. “Shame on you.”

“I haven’t stolen any iPod’s. You must have the wrong number.”

“Look, Agent Coulson, you really think I’m going to fall for that one?”

“This isn’t Agent Coulson.”

There was silence at the other end of the line.

“But this _is_ S.H.I.E.L.D, right?” she asked. “I know I called the right number.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, wondering how the mystery woman got his line if she was trying to call Coulson. “But this isn’t Coulson’s phone, it’s mine. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

He ended the call and went back to his email. His phone rang again.

“Operations.”

“So if you’re not Agent Coulson, who are you and why am I getting you when I’m calling _his_ number?”

In spite of his desire to slam the phone down again Brock paused, considering the question. It was a good question, and he said as much.

“Well, of course it’s a good question,” the woman said. “I have lots more good questions too, like who are you, do you know anything about my iPod, and why didn’t it come back with the rest of gear? Hell - why was it even taken in the first place? _It’s an iPod!_ ”

“I’m Agent Rumlow and I don’t know anything about your iPod.”

“That’s what Coulson said too and yet I have proof that he did - or at least one of his goons did.”

“Then you’d best take it up with Coulson,” he replied and hung up again. The phone rang again almost immediately this time but he ignored it. He needed about twenty hours of sleep and several cups of coffee before he even attempted to do any more work.

He shut his computer down, grabbed his jacket and keys, and left.

Two days later he returned to work, well rested and wondering what Coulson was going to throw at him this week. Ever since he’d expressed interest in promotion to S.T.R.I.K.E. the senior agent had been pushing him to the limit. Brock was determined not to let anything ruin his chance.

He was well into clearing his email backlog when he reached the email Coulson had forwarded to him. All it said was ‘You signed the paperwork so I’m passing this one on to you. Clear it up, asap.’

His phone started ringing at the same time he opened the attachment, and he picked it up without really thinking.

“Operations.”

“Oh, so now you’re answering your phone again, Agent Rumlow. Are you going to hang up on me again or are you going to help me?”

A chill ran up his spine as the phone calls from the other day rushed into his memory.

“Who is this?” he asked, wondering if he’d get an answer this time.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten me so quickly?” she asked.

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten you but you never gave me your name, so my question stands - who are you?”

“Darcy Lewis, intern to Dr. Jane Foster.”

“There’s no Dr. Foster on our payroll, Miss Lewis. Did you know that you can be charged for wasting a Federal Agents time?”

“Well, of course she’s not on your payroll. She’s an independent scientist who just happens to be receiving apology support from S.H.I.E.L.D. because of your fuckery with our equipment. And my iPod!”

He took a deep breath, trying hard to hold onto his patience. “I told you already I don’t know anything about any iPod. I also have no knowledge of a Dr. Foster or anything else you’ve mentioned. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

The phone clattered back into its cradle and the breath left his lungs in a deep whoosh. He turned his attention back to the email he’d been reading. About three seconds later he let out a soft “Ah, fuck,” as he realised what Miss Lewis was so annoyed about.

He picked up the phone, pushing the button for the switchboard operator.

“Department, please,” the operator said.

“Where does confiscated equipment go?” he asked.

“There are several warehouses that contraband is sent to, depending on location, the nature of the item, and threat level.”

“I’m looking for items taken from Puento Antiguo, about two weeks ago.”

“That will be the California warehouse. Putting you through now, sir.”

Fifteen minutes of being left on hold and two minutes of conversation determined that none of the equipment taken from Dr. Foster ever left the tiny town, but all of the S.H.I.E.L.D. assets were currently being unloaded and put back into storage.

Further enquiries made it clear to Brock that there was no one available at the warehouse to search for one small music player.

He would have to go himself.

Curse Coulson for dropping this into _his_ lap.

Two days later he was standing in front of a shipping crate, staring into it in stunned disbelief.

He turned to the inventory control manager who accompanied him.

“This is all that was in here? Really?”

The manager nodded. “As far as I can tell they’d just started packing everything up when there was a call to engage. I guess in the confusion someone just banged the lid on it and added it to the truck.”

“Have there been any requisitions from Puente Antiguo yet?” Brock asked, the glimmerings of an idea forming in his head.

The manager pulled out his tablet and started tapping. “Hmm, actually yes. You want I should  pack it all into this crate?”

Brock rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. “How much stuff are we talking here?”

The manager consulted his tablet again. “It’ll all fit in here without any trouble at all.”

Brock looked into the crate again. “How about we-”

He explained his idea to the inventory control manager.

* * *

 

Darcy was almost ready to give up on ever getting her iPod back. Every time she called, it rang out. Every time she sent an email, it bounced back.

Then a pair of shipping crates arrived. One was addressed to Jane, and contained more bits and pieces she’d ordered for the Einstein-Rosen bridge machine thingy she was building.

The other was addressed to Darcy.

“But I didn’t order anything!”

“Well, it’s not mine,” Jane said. “Better open it and see what’s in it.”

Darcy eyed off the crate with suspicion.

“Can you like, check it for bombs or something?” she asked Agent Rollins.

Eventually Rollins declared her crate innocent of all wrongdoing and suspicious activities, and with not a small amount of trepidation, she pried it open with a crowbar.

It was full to the brim with multicoloured packing peanuts.

“What the hell?” She brushed away the top layer to reveal… more packing peanuts.

Another minute or so of scooping the little beans from one side of the crate to the other - while trying very hard not to spill them everywhere - revealed nothing but more and more of the packaging.

Something nudged at her elbow and she turned to see Agent Rollins holding out a bucket.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“Scoop,” he replied.

“Okay, but I’ll need something to scoop it into.”

Half an hour later Darcy was standing in the bottom of the crate, ankle deep in packing peanuts as she scooped the bottom layers out of the crate. There was a haphazard collection of buckets, boxes, trashcans, and bags surrounding the crate, all overflowing with the insidious pellets.

“I need another box or something,” she said, shovelling peanuts into the bucket.

“Sorry, Darcy. We’ve run out,” Jane informed her. “You’ll just have to make do.”

Darcy straightened up, blowing a loose strand of hair off her face. “I swear, whoever sent this is going to pay. There’s nothing here!”

“You haven’t emptied it yet,” Jane pointed out. “There could still be something hiding in there. Just- I don’t know, keep looking.”

Darcy humphed and turned back to stare at the bottom of the crate. With a groan, she lowered herself into a sitting position, wiggling her butt into the cushion of peanuts and started sweeping her hands through the last layer of packing.

On the third sweep she felt something.

“Wait, I think I found something!” she cried out, scrabbling for purchase. Grasping the corner of what felt like a thick, squishy plastic bag she pulled it free of the packing peanuts.

It _was_ a plastic bag, stuffed full of bubble wrap and wrapped around and around with layers and layers of sticky tape.

“I need scissors!” she demanded, climbing to her feet. Agent Rollins stepped forward to help her climb out of the crate as Jane grabbed scissors from her desk.

Underneath the layers of plastic, tape, and bubble wrap was a press seal plastic bag. This one had a piece of folded up paper wrapped around it. Her heart beating faster with anticipation, she tore the paper off, throwing it to one side, opened the bag and...

“I don’t believe it,” she said. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

“Well, what is it?” Jane demanded, bending down to pick up the discarded piece of paper.

Darcy reached in and slowly pulled out her iPod. “It’s my iPod,” she said. “They used an entire fucking crate of fucking packing peanuts to send me my iPod.”

“Um, Darcy.” Jane was looking at the paper.

“What?” Darcy asked, shifting her gaze to look at Jane.

Wordlessly, Jane held out the now unfolded page.

Darcy reached out and took it.

_“Dear Miss Lewis,_

_Here’s your iPod._

_We apologise for the inconvenience.”_

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> The crate is about [this](http://pakmailaustin.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/vase-peanuts-crate.jpg) big. Also I discovered while googling pictures of packing peanuts you can get glow-in-the-dark ones…
> 
> My Tumblr, if you're interested, is [ibelieveinturtles](http://ibelieveinturtles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
